


you pretend you didn't see me cry

by dewdrops



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Arachnophobia, Canon Compliant, Entomophobia, For the most part, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-20 03:21:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11912145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dewdrops/pseuds/dewdrops
Summary: Now, he's eighteen years old, and still hasn't grown out of it. He doesn't think he will any time soon, either. He regrets not nipping it in the bud while he still had the chance, because hecould've. He knows he could've, when he was younger and the other boys his age were digging in the dirt for worms and lifting up stones in search of beetles. He recalls being uncomfortable in those kinds of situations, but his fear of being ridiculed by his peers far outweighed the slight urge to take off. So, he'd stood back, watching as the boys disturbed the helpless creatures. He wasn't sure what was so fun about messing with things that weren't messing with you, that were just trying to survive in a place that was so much bigger than they were.But maybe those boys had been doing something right, because he's almost certain they've developed into normal young adults who aren't deathly afraid of insects. And arachnids. (Isak doesn't discriminate based on number of body segments and legs.)***Or, Isak struggles with a certain phobia or two. Even tries to help.





	you pretend you didn't see me cry

**Author's Note:**

> i don't believe there's any evidence that isak is canonically afraid of these things, but ya never know. the focus was originally just going to be on a mild arachnophobia, but i sorted projected and ta-da! a silly lil thing that turned out a bit more intense than i planned for. if you don't wanna read about isak struggling with fears and anxieties relating to a variety of insects + spiders then maybe this isn't for you. title from "did you see me cry" by boy scouts.

Isak has no idea how this thing started. He likes to think that there was some kind of trigger, something that happened that he's just repressing. At least he'd have an excuse for it, then.

That's what he likes to think; but, most days, he feels as though it's something that's been happening over time. It started off small, but gradually progressed into the full-fledged _problem_ that it is today. Maybe at first he thought he'd grow out of it, that dealing with it then and there would be nothing more than needless pain and suffering. There'd come a day when he'd wake up, come face-to-face with what it was he feared, and realize that he was over it. That what he feared was but a tiny, six-legged creature who'd mistakenly wandered into his house.

Now, he's eighteen years old, and still hasn't grown out of it. He doesn't think he will any time soon, either. He regrets not nipping it in the bud while he still had the chance, because he _could've_. He knows he could've, when he was younger and the other boys his age were digging in the dirt for worms and lifting up stones in search of beetles. He recalls being uncomfortable in those kinds of situations, but his fear of being ridiculed by his peers far outweighed the slight urge to take off. So, he'd stood back, watching as the boys disturbed the helpless creatures. He wasn't sure what was so fun about messing with things that weren't messing with you, that were just trying to survive in a place that was so much bigger than they were.

But maybe those boys had been doing something right, because he's almost certain they've developed into normal young adults who aren't deathly afraid of insects. And arachnids. (Isak doesn't discriminate based on number of body segments and legs.)

It would be one thing if he never had to confront his fear, but it's everywhere. And the more he becomes aware of it, the more prevalent it is. He's sure there's a name for that phenomenon, but he can't remember what it is as he and Even enter the park. He's too busy trying to keep himself from acting out on the compulsion to ask Even if they could go somewhere less... outdoors.

"Okay?" Even's voice registers in the chaotic onslaught of thoughts he's trying to sort through, a low-pitched lilt that sounds like home feels.

Isak looks at Even as they walk, trying to keep his face from showing any sign of his inner turmoil. "Good." It takes quite a bit of effort just to keep his voice level. "Why?"

Even's eyes fall to where their hands are clasped between them. "If you wanted to know how much pressure it takes to cut the circulation to my fingers off, you could've just asked."

So, not only is this stupid thing impacting his life, it's impacting _Even's_. He guesses he should've anticipated that happening, since their lives have become so interwoven that they're practically a single entity, just existing in two separate bodies. His fear is giving way to guilt as he loosens his grip on Even's hand. "Sorry."

Even, never anything less than the kindest person Isak's met, smiles reassuringly and wraps his arm around Isak's waist. "If you're measuring quantitatively, I'd say we were about two minutes away from seeing blue fingertips," he says.

Isak's rolling his eyes, but he's leaning into Even's side. "I'll make note of that."

Soon thereafter, they find themselves sitting underneath an oak tree in a secluded area of the park. It's a day in late summer, the sun out but the air pleasantly cool. The oak hides them beneath its shadow, and Isak's so entranced by the sound of the bird's song mixing with their offhand conversation as he rests his head in Even's lap that he's almost forgotten about _it_.

Almost, but not quite. He has one of Even's hands in his own, trying to distract himself. He's lazily bending Even's ring finger back when he feels something against his leg, causing him to bolt upright. Panicked, he pats down his pant leg, trying to find the culprit of the itch. When that fails, he stands up, trying to dislodge whatever horrendous, probably poisonous creature that has crawled up there.

"Isak?" Even keeps repeating his name, but he's worked himself up to the point where even that it isn't able to ground him. It isn't until Even rests his hands on his shoulders, causing him to flinch and turn around, that he realizes the feeling on his leg is gone.

Isak has some difficulty meeting Even's eyes, knows they'll be just as concerned as his voice, and that wont make him feel any better. The last thing he wants is to make Even worry, and once he's calm enough to recognize this, he says, "I'm okay," although he's not, and he knows it's written all over his face. "I just thought there was something on my leg."

While this is hardly a sufficient explanation, Even doesn't pry any further. Instead, he places a hand beneath Isak's chin, gently coaxing him into making eye contact. Isak's still scared, and he's embarrassed, but he allows himself to be comforted by Even's soothing touch and hushed voice and _presence_. It's not like he has to do much to lead Isak out of the inner recesses of his mind and back into what's going on in _this minute_. Just being there is usually enough.

And it is enough, today. Isak thinks it'd be a good idea to find coping mechanisms separate from Even, because Even already has enough to deal with and the last thing he needs to be worrying about is Isak's silly, irrational fear. But today, he lets Even be his coping mechanism; he's attached to him at the hip as they leave the park, all while assuring him that there's nothing wrong. 

 

***

 

When Isak gets out of school to find Even waiting for him, still dressed in the clothes he'd worn to work, he feels as though he hasn't seen him in years. He'd seen him briefly at lunch, which was a few hours ago, but that didn't count because Even had been busy when he dropped by. So, Jonas can't blame him for ending their conversation prematurely; not when Even's waiting for him. It's been all day and Even looks _really_ good in his shirt.

It's getting colder, which provides Isak with an excuse to walk so close to Even that they're nearly falling over other (not that he needs one). The leaves rustle against the pavement as they tell each other about their days. Spending the majority of the week apart has been taking some getting used to, but the feeling of reuniting at the end of each school/work day is one of Isak's favorites. They always have a lot to talk about, whether it be actual problems they're having or simply the mundane happenings of their day-to-day.

Hearing Even's perspective on things is like switching the lens by which he views his own life. It never fails to make Isak feel better, and he can only hope that his words are having a similar effect on Even.

Once they get home, Isak starts on his homework while Even chops the vegetables he's putting in their soup. Even's only getting better at cooking, which is kind of unfair because Isak feels the opposite is true for himself. It's been a little while since his last attempt at making them dinner, when he'd set the timer on the oven for three hours instead of the thirty minutes the recipe called for.

Even doesn't even need a recipe, quickly whipping up an incredible soup that they eat in bed while watching a movie. "I think you'll like this one," Even tells him as the opening credits roll. "I'm not a big fan, but it's a classic."

Maybe it is, but Isak doesn't and is never going to know why. They haven't even made it through the first half when Isak puts his soup down and pushes the blanket off his lap. The sound of the killer bees in the movie is filling his ears, and breathing suddenly doesn't seem like the most intuitive thing. "I'm going to go take a shower," he manages to say.

"Now?" Even asks, and Isak can hardly hear him over the voices of the characters onscreen as they try escaping the swarming bees. He feels like he's right there with them, his heart hammering and sweat collecting in his clenched fists. "Do you want me to pause the movie?"

Isak shakes his head, already on the way out of the room. "That's okay."

He's glad to get out of his clothes, the sight of his own bare skin free of killer bees a relief palpable enough that his shoulders sag.

The shower is effective at clearing his mind, and the images of the bees in the movie are fading the longer he stands under the steady stream of the water. If the incident a few weeks ago in the park wasn't enough, Even must be starting to put the pieces together in his head. As much as he doesn't want anyone to know about this, maybe it's a good thing that Even learns about it for himself. At least then there'd be no uncomfortable confessional to deal with.

When he emerges from the shower, he takes his time drying off before making his way back to their bedroom. The movie is off, and Even's watching him carefully. He's not saying anything, probably waiting for Isak to initiate the impending conversation.

Isak doesn't, just slips into some comfortable clothes and joins Even in bed. After a little while of staring at the black screen in front of them, hand idly stirring a spoon around his cold soup, Even reaches out to him. He rubs Isak's arm, and says, "Do you want to watch Seinfeld?"

Later, when they're swaddled in their blankets with Seinfeld playing in the background, Isak thinks that maybe he'll try and work up the courage to talk to Even about it. He doesn't want Even to think he's keeping things from him, and he doesn't _want_ to keep things from him. He wants Even to feel like he can talk to him about anything, and he figures not talking about things himself is kind of hypocritical of him. It most certainly wont be tonight, and probably wont be tomorrow, but Isak decides that he'll talk to him eventually. 

 

***

 

Isak doesn't talk to him. He means to; he really does. It's just that school's been taking up so much of his time, and Even's been working evening shifts recently. And excuses aside, it's not exactly like it has come up again. His encounters with the six and eight-legged kind are becoming less and less frequent as time progresses, and he only has the rapidly approaching winter weather to thank.

In fact, when things come to a head (literally), it's the first time he's seen one in weeks. It's a Friday evening, and instead of going out, he's in bed with Even. He wouldn't have it any other way.

He's more relaxed than he's been in awhile as Even kisses down his chest, the soft sound of his lips on Isak's bare skin filling the otherwise silent room. He's moving down Isak's body, and Isak has his fingers threaded through his hair. He's feeling as light as a feather, and when Even presses a kiss against his hip bone, he lets his head fall back onto his pillow.

And there it is. Stationed on their ceiling, right above his face. If the spider were to lower itself down with its webbing, or fall, it'd surely end up on him. The thought prompts Isak to free his hand from Even's hair and move out from underneath him. In a matter of seconds, he's off the bed with a sheet wrapped around his shoulders.

He's looking between the spider and a very confused Even, but mostly at the spider. He recognizes that, relative to all the other spiders that exist, this one is small. But just seeing it sitting on the ceiling, with no other spiders around for comparison, it looks absolutely _massive_.

Even's following his gaze, and if he didn't know before, he knows now. He stares up at the spider for a few seconds, and then looks at Isak. He might be waiting for Isak to say something, but if so, he's waiting on a lost cause. "Are you okay?" he asks after a prolonged silence.

Isak supposes there's no point in trying to hide it any longer. "No." He can't look away from the spider, knows it'll flee as soon as he takes his eyes off it and he'll wake up in the middle of the night with it crawling up his neck. "I will be if you get that thing out of here, though."

"The spider?" Even asks, eyebrows furrowed.

Isak's scared, but he still manages a snort. "No, Even." And then he swears he sees the spider move, causing him to take a few hasty steps back. "Fuck. Yes, the fucking spider."

Even stands up and grabs a pair of underwear off the ground. "I'll be right back." When he slips out of the room, Isak takes the opportunity to press his back against the wall that's farthest from the spider, gripping his makeshift cape with white knuckles.

True to his word, Even comes back seconds later with a cup. Isak's eyes widen as he realizes what he's planning on doing with that cup. "We drink out of that!"

Even's staring at the cup, and he looks so puzzled that Isak would be over there comforting him if it wasn't for the fact that there's a huge spider on their ceiling. "Okay," he says slowly, putting the cup down.

"Can't you just kill it?" Isak isn't usually one to condone the killing of such objectively valuable members of the ecosystem, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

"Hold on." Even leaves the room again, and Isak listens to him rummage around their kitchen. He returns after a few tense moments, small mason jar in hand.

They're definitely not going to be making jam anytime soon, Isak muses as Even gets a piece of paper before stepping onto their bed. His face is close enough to the spider that it makes Isak's skin crawl, and he's holding the jar and paper up so suddenly that Isak can't help but blurt, "Be careful." He regrets it immediately after, because Even takes his eyes off what he's doing to shoot him a smile. It's by some stroke of luck that the spider doesn't hurl itself at Even, and that he's able to catch it in the jar with relative ease.

Once Even's released the spider and re-entered the room, Isak feels marginally more relaxed. "It's gone?" He loosens his grip on his cape, and takes a tentative step away from the wall.

"It's gone," Even confirms, wavering at the foot of their bed. He looks about as unsure about what the next course of actions should be as Isak feels.

After one last glance at the newly empty ceiling, Isak decides to get back into bed. Even's still standing, watching him carefully, and Isak's not having it. "Come here." He's abandoned the sheet in favor of their duvet. "Please," he adds, pulling the duvet up to his chin.

Once they've situated themselves comfortably, and Even has one arm slung over his chest and the other playing with his hair, Isak's back to normal. His heart rate has slowed, and he even feels his eyelids starting to get heavy. That is, until Even murmurs, "You really don't like spiders, do you?"

Isak sighs heavily. "I don't want to talk about it right now." He likes spiders just fine, but he wishes they, along with every single insect in the world, would keep out of his way. Realistically, he knows this isn't feasible; that they need to be around to do their job properly. Still, breaking into his and Even's bedroom is a little bit excessive.

"Tomorrow?" Even suggests softly, winding a lock of hair around his finger.

Isak answers with a noncommittal hum, leaning back into his hand. Even doesn't mention it for the rest of the night, and Isak's grateful for that. 

 

***

 

Sometimes, Isak dreams about it. If not spiders, the dreams usually involve a specific kind of insect, and a lot of them. So many of them that he can't fight off the onslaught, that they overtake his body and he's forced to endure the slowest, most painful death imaginable. After his and Even's failed movie night, bees have made an appearance. Other usual suspects include grasshoppers (they're just so unpredictable), and moths.

Tonight, it's moths. The only difference is that Isak's not dreaming. He'd initially thought that's what the dark shape moving down the wall across from their bed was; a figment of his mind. Something that would go as soon as he blinked his bleary eyes and sat upright. He was wrong.

He's sitting upright, wide awake, and that dark shape is none other than a moth. It moves up and down the wall, and then flutters off to land on the table. He's watching it for a long time, and the idea of sleep isn't even worth entertaining when there's a moth frantically moving around their room. He doesn't know what it is about the delicate, winged creatures that strike panic within him. They don't have teeth, so there's no chance of it biting him or Even, even if it were to fly across the room like it's doing right now.

How's Isak supposed to have a change of heart when it's flying right by his head? He scrambles up from his spot on the bed, eyes darting around until they find the moth. It's landed on his pillow, mere inches away from Even's face. He knows Even wouldn't care, that Even doesn't need protection from a _moth_ , but he still feels like he needs to do something.

So, he picks up the nearest heavy object to him, which happens to be a textbook, and brings it down onto his pillow. His breathing has picked up speed, and as he presses down on the book, he feels something that's a combination of fear, embarrassment, sadness, and it's not anything he hasn't felt before. The shame is weighing heavy on his mind as he slowly lifts the book to reveal the remnants of the moth, nothing but a still, flat husk of its former self.

He gets a tissue to wipe it up, but the powder is sticking to his pillow case and it's no use. He takes the whole pillow off the bed and lets it fall onto the ground before clambering back into bed. He's facing Even, hands underneath his head. He doesn't know how long he watches Even, but he eventually sees the first traces of dawn casting shadows on his face.

It's a Wednesday morning, and in a couple of hours, he'll have to get ready to go to school. Even will wake up at the same time, though his shift doesn't begin until noon. The idea of facing the world in this state seems ridiculous, and Isak has a hard time reconciling with the fact that it's something he's going to have to do. That he's going to have to get out of bed and see his pillow on the ground, that Even's going to see it and probably wash it for him.

They'd never talked about the spider thing after it happened, and Isak knew Even was waiting for him to bring it up. He was waiting for himself to bring it up, too, but he could never get the nerve.

It might be the stress from the night's trauma, or the lack of sleep, or a combination of the two, but Isak feels tears prick his eyes as the early morning sun illuminates Even's face. He squeezes his eyes shut, sucking in a ragged breath and willing himself to go to sleep. He's not sure how many hours he's spent in his eighteen years trying to do just that and opening his eyes to a bright bedroom with no success.

This time, when he opens his eyes again, it's not bright. It's no brighter than it'd been when he closed them, because that had only been a few seconds ago. Even's trailing his thumb along Isak's cheekbone, eyelashes fluttering as he wakes up. "Where's your pillow?" he asks tiredly.

Isak closes his eyes again, sighing. "There was a moth." Even doesn't say anything, so he quietly tells him, "I killed it."

Even stops stroking his cheek, and Isak panics in the moment it takes him to instead place a hand on his back. "Come here, baby." The words rolling off Even's tongue, even lower than they usually are, are enough incentive for Isak to let himself to be led to his usual spot on Even's chest. He's familiar with it, what with it being his favorite place to take refuge ever since he'd gifted Even his most comfortable pillow.

"I'm sorry if I woke you up," Isak says, talking into Even's chest.

"You didn't." Even's trailing a hand down his back, and Isak feels some of the tension he'd unknowingly been holding ease. "You should've, though. How much sleep have you gotten tonight?"

Isak doesn't want to say, not after he's done so well recently with his sleeping. But he also doesn't want to lie to Even, so he says, "An hour? Maybe two. I don't know." He doesn't want to recall the night's events, but he does it for Even. "I tried to go back to sleep after the moth, but I couldn't."

"Okay." Isak doesn't know how Even makes one word sound so sad, so disappointed, but it makes him feel like there's a lump in his throat.

He tries to talk around the lump, but his voice sounds shaky even to himself. "It was on the pillow. If I'd been asleep, it would've landed on me."

There's a brief pause where Even massages circles into his back, forcing him to relax. He eventually asks, "And then what would've happened?"

Isak doesn't have to think about the answer, but he does anyway. He thinks about the moth landing on his forehead, or his nose, and cringes. He either would've itched the spot, effectively sending the moth away, or it could've stuck around for a few seconds before moving somewhere else in search of light. "Nothing," he answers.

"I don't understand," Even says slowly, and he sounds like he's going to expound on that point, but Isak doesn't allow him to.

"That makes two of us," he interrupts.

Even sighs, moving his hand up Isak's back until his fingers are dancing along where curls fall over the nape of his neck. "I don't understand," he repeats. "But I want to. I know it's probably hard for you to talk about, but I want to understand what scares you." There's a lot that scares him that bears no relation to spiders or moths, Isak thinks as he listens to the rhythmic thud of Even's heart. "Maybe we can figure out the reason it does together."

"What if there's no reason for it?" Isak mumbles.

"We'll figure it out." Even sounds so sure, and Isak wants to believe him. "Maybe just talking about it will help. And if it doesn't, we'll try something else."

Isak can hear the first trills of bird song outside, and he closes his eyes. "Can we do that tomorrow?"

There's a slight pressure on the crown of his head, and he thinks Even is kissing it. "I think you mean today, right?" He laughs softly, and then says, "But, yeah, we can talk later. Do you think you could fall asleep, now?"

While Isak feels a lot better than he did before Even woke up, he doesn't think he's quite there yet. So, he tries for honesty. "I don't know."

"How about I draw on your back for a little?" Even asks, even though he sounds like he could easily fall back asleep himself.

Isak wants it, but he feels selfish about keeping Even awake. "You don't have to," he says.

"I want whatever you want." Isak's about to comment on how that's probably not very healthy, and Even must feel it coming because he shushes him before he's even gotten a word out. "Guess what I'm drawing."

Isak never guesses correctly, but he tries anyway, usually just blurting out the first thing that comes to mind as soon as Even's finger stops tracing shapes onto his skin of his back. The sooner he gets an answer out, the sooner Even's chest will quake with laughter and he'll start over again. This goes on until they're basking in the warm glow of morning, all wrapped up in each other with hushed sweet nothings and heavy eyelids. At some point, Even pulled their duvet up, and it contains their combined body heat just well enough to stave off the chill in their apartment.

Isak doesn't realize he's falling asleep until Even presses another kiss to his head and says, "Good night."

 

***

 

When Isak awakes, it's to the sound of Even puttering around the kitchen. Which is strange, because it's a Wednesday, and he's _sure_ he set an alarm last night. He can tell by the brightness of their room that it's past the time his alarm was supposed to go off, but he blindly gropes around for his phone anyways. When it tells him that he's late for school by a whole hour, he drops it and clambers out of bed. 

Mornings are getting colder by the day, and waking up without Even has always left a chill within him that hardly has anything to do with the temperature. He shrugs on a sweater, and then goes into the kitchen. "Why didn't you wake me?" he asks, wavering in the entrance way. 

Even looks up from the eggs he's scrambling, and his eyes trail over Isak. "You needed to get some sleep." He smiles, and Isak wants to be unsatisfied with this answer, but how can he be when Even's smiling so brilliantly and making them breakfast in their kitchen that they share because they _live_ together? It's been over six months since they've moved in, and Isak's still in awe that he could have something like this; be with someone like Even. 

"I shouldn't be missing class." His voice betrays him, coming out so halfhearted that no one could possibly take whatever he's saying seriously. 

Even sets his spatula down, and takes two long strides towards Isak. That's all it takes for him to cross their kitchen, and then he's taking up all of Isak's space. He has a hand gently cupping Isak's jaw, the pads of his fingers running along the skin as though it'll crack if he applies too much pressure. Isak's eyes are fluttering shut to their own accord, and he never stood a chance against _this_. "You never miss any class," Even says. "This is the first time this year. You have a whole ten percent to use up, remember?"

"You're not supposed to use the ten percent if you can help it." Even's hand falls from his face, and trails down his side. It stops to rest on his hip, pulling him closer. He tries not to let this deter him, continuing to speak. "Classes are harder than they were last year... and I have to go to every lesson if I want to actually understand what's going on."

"You'll be fine," Even says, and there's a certain finality to his voice. He leans closer to Isak, and their noses brush together ever so slightly. "You're a genius, after all."

Isak rolls his eyes. "Whatever." If anyone asks, he's put a valiant enough effort into defending his position that it warrants him threading a hand through Even's hair and closing the remaining distance between them. It's not much, and their lips are joined in a matter of seconds.

Even's running his hand over his hip as he pulls back, the look on his face enough to make Isak want to drag him back into bed and spend the rest of the day with the sheets shielding them from the outside world. "Breakfast is just about ready," he says, and then he's returning to his position over the stove. "If you're going to stay and distract me, you might as well pick us some parsley."

Even had planted them a little herb garden early in the summer, a variety of flourishing green plants that Isak can hardly differentiate between. They're sitting on the window ledge currently, and Isak's eyeing two plants as he approaches. He knows that one is parsley, and the other is cilantro or something, but they look so similar. He's thinking about taking a chance when he sees a small, red shape sitting on a nearby basil leaf that definitely isn't a part of the basil plant.

He takes a hurried step back, and then observes the red shape from a distance. It's not until he sees it move that he decides to alert Even of what's happening. Not that it's much of a decision; him stumbling backwards until he's standing in the entrance of the kitchen attracts Even's attention before he's able to get a word out. "What is it?" Even asks, taking their eggs off the burner.

"There's something on the basil." He wishes this had waited until after their talk, but he supposes it's a good segue into the topic.

Even looks at the plants for a few seconds before making his way over. "It's a ladybug," he says, his back to Isak. "I must've brought it in from the balcony." 

Isak standing in the entrance of the door, and he could easily leave the room. He trusts Even to get rid of _it_ for him, so there's no real reason for him to be putting himself through the stress of staying. There's no real reason, yet he feels like running away wouldn't do him any good. So, he stays, watching as Even turns to face him. 

Even doesn't look like he's finding any of this funny, which is as pleasantly surprising to Isak as it as uncomfortable. He's watching Isak with this curious gaze, and Isak knows it's not judgemental, he does; but it's still making him feel the need to justify his behavior. "They have wings." When Even doesn't respond, he shifts his weight and says, "They _fly_." They also rid gardens of destructive insects that can actually cause damage to crops, but disclosing this to Even isn't going to make his own fear seem any more reasonable. 

There's a pause where neither of them say anything, and then Even walks over to Isak. "I don't want you to feel like you have to explain yourself." He's taking Isak's hand in his, and Isak feels an oh-so familiar lump lodging itself in his throat. "If you want to, that's amazing. But if talking doesn't help you, then I don't want you to force yourself to do it." 

And Isak couldn't even say anything if he wanted to, throat so tight that it's hard to breathe. Even seems to notice this, wordlessly pulling him into his chest. He lets himself be held, lacing his own arms around Even and resting his head in the crook of Even's neck. He doesn't want to be like this; doesn't want to so scared. He wants to lean against the ledge beside the plants and tell Even about how many aphids ladybugs can eat in a single day, all while the harmless creature does its work beside him.

"Would it make you feel better if I moved it outside?" Even asks, rubbing his back through his sweater. 

He wants it, but he can't have it. Maybe he can eventually, but not today. He nods into Even's neck. 

Later, once Even's transferred the planter to the balcony, they settle down at the table for breakfast. Even's trying to make conversation about something non-related to what had just happened in the kitchen, but Isak's heart isn't in it, and he knows Even knows this. Even, who's so patient and wonderful, reaching out to touch his hand whenever he gets too quiet. They're almost finished when Even asks something that peaks his interest. "Do you remember when this all started?" 

He knows what Even's talking about without having to ask, but he still takes his time to think about the question. He doesn't try and formulate the answer he thinks will make him look the least silly, or blurt out some random figure before diverting the conversation. He says what he thinks is the truth, and it's hard. It's so hard, but he tries to work through his thoughts as best he can. 

Even doesn't interrupt, just sits back and lets him try to make sense of what's going on his head. It's messy, and it _doesn't_ make sense, is the thing. Isak can talk himself in circles about it, and Even can listen, but that doesn't mean anything has changed by the end of their conversation. 

It's cathartic, but that's all it is. As Even gets ready for work and he stares at the ceiling from their bed, he realizes they're no closer to the truth. No closer to finding out why Isak is petrified of benign, nonthreatening things that are half the size of his pinky nail. Maybe that's because there is no ultimate truth to reach; that they can talk all they want about it and not arrive at any conclusions. 

Even lies down beside him once he's dressed for work, and he gently taps Isak's temple. "Quiet down in there," he says. 

Isak lets out of a heavy breath, and then turns his head so he can properly see Even. His eyes are limpid in the soft light being diffused around their room, relentlessly searching Isak's face. The tan he'd acquired during over the summer is beginning to give way to pale skin, and the dark circles beneath his eyes are more prominent than usual. "I'm sorry," Isak mumbles, reaching out to touch one of the marks. 

This seems to perturb Even, who frowns and takes his hand. "What're you sorry for?" he asks, winding their fingers together. 

It's kind of a loaded question, and Isak could say so many things, but he doesn't. He just shrugs and looks down at their clasped hands. "Keeping you awake last night." 

"You didn't keep me awake." Even's voice is quiet, and his face is concerned. Isak wants to see him smile. "I could've went back to sleep, but I kept myself awake. That's what I wanted." 

It was also what Isak wanted, and isn't that selfish of him? He knows how important it is that Even maintains some semblance of routine, yet he'd still let him draw on his back for hours when they both should've been sleeping. 

As if able to see into Isak's thoughts, Even shifts closer on the bed and presses a chaste kiss to his cheek. "Just an excuse to get extra sleep tonight," he says. "How about you pick out something for us to watch for when I'm done work? I'll bring home food, and we wont have to get out of bed 'til tomorrow." 

Even's face is looming over his, and Isak tilts his head upwards to knock their noses together. He uses the hand that's not in Even's to cup his jaw, and hopes his eyes are conveying how grateful he is. "Okay," he breathes. 

Even's features are fuzzy, given how close he is, but Isak can see him smile. It feels like coming home after an long day, the mere sight of it relieving some of the tension in Isak's shoulders. He sinks into the mattress, and Even chases his lips. Even tastes like toothpaste, and it's so soft and slow that Isak thinks he's shaking by the end of it. "That's chill," Even murmurs against his lips. 

It's cold when Even leaves, and Isak wraps himself in their duvet. He shoots Jonas an excuse for his absence, because him and the guys have been theorizing about it in the group chat. Sana's also been texting, asking where he is and telling him he can copy her notes when he gets back. He means it when he thanks her for the latter, unsure of where he'd be if it weren't for their impromptu biology partnership carrying out into third year. Probably begging some kid for messy notes that are completely void of full sentences. 

Afterwards, he makes a halfhearted effort to do some problems out of his physics textbook, but calls it quits partway through the first one. There's something weighing on his mind, which is weird because it feels as though he's just spilled every last ounce of its contents onto the table for him and Even to sift through in search of nonexistent answers. 

Isak abandons his textbook in favor of standing next to the doors that lead to the balcony. He rests his head on the glass, and cold permeates the side of his face. He's getting lost in his head, and Even's not here to find him. He's not sure how long he spends like that, but it's a little while. Eventually, he steps back and opens the doors. Cool air floods their apartment, and he steps out so he can shut the doors behind him. He crosses his arms over his chest, rubbing his arms in an attempt to conserve warmth. It's futile, but he wont be out here long. He just needs to see something. 

The herbs are sitting on the ground, and he zeroes in on the basil once he's identified it in a sea of green. He scopes it out, and then trails his eyes over the other herbs. There's nothing, and he's not sure whether he's relieved or disappointed. He decides it's a bit of both, but he's more relieved than anything else, because isn't exposure therapy something he shouldn't be doing alone? It's not like the ladybug could've hurt him, but he can still think of several ways in which the situation could've gotten out of hand. 

He rests his elbows on the ledge of the balcony, looking down at the street below. He's watching an elderly couple walk their dog when something on the sleeve of his sweater catches his eye. At first, he thinks it's ketchup from breakfast, but this theory is quickly disproved. 

The ladybug sits on his outstretched arm, every so often moving one way or another. He doesn't know why he's not swatting it away, considering that doing so would be a pretty appropriate response for just about anyone. Maybe it's because it happens so quickly, and the ladybug has taken flight a mere few seconds after him becoming aware of its presence. 

He watches it go.

**Author's Note:**

> ending things is hard. by the way, the movie they were watching was the swarm (1978).


End file.
